After I passed away, my husband began to treat my twin sister as if she were me.

**Chapter 1**

After I took my last breath, my husband, William Dawson, found himself in a cold war, and it all spiraled when I was fatally stabbed three times during a robbery.

Enter my twin sister, Hannah Palmer. Drowning in a sea of gambling debts, she seized the opportunity to slip into my life, getting uncomfortably close to William after my demise.

She played the role of a doormat around him, completely unfazed. Unlike me, jealousy was a foreign concept to her when it came to William's first love. In fact, she would even bring them condoms while they indulged in their escapades in our marital bed.

Eventually, William cracked. He turned to Hannah and asked what had happened to the jealous wife who used to fight tooth and nail for his attention. Oh, how I had to stifle a laugh. I had been gone all this time—how had he not noticed?

The door swung open, and in walked William, followed closely by Eleanor Bishop, his first love. The moment he glanced at the dining table, his cheerful demeanor vanished, replaced by a stern frown.

“Dinner? Where's the food?” he called out, his voice a blend of expectation and irritation. I peeked out from the kitchen, wearing my best placating smile.

“I'm sorry, Honey. Let me grab you some fruit to snack on while I finish up. Dinner will be ready soon!”

William frowned at my response, which was unusual for him. I knew exactly why. I had changed. The woman who once couldn’t bear to hear Eleanor’s name was now standing there with a smile, offering fruit to tide them over.

Eleanor was taken aback but quickly regained her composure. "Don’t worry. I’ll help you," she offered, stepping into the kitchen.

She reached for the pot of boiling water on the stove, but in her haste, her hand slipped. The pot crashed to the floor, splattering scalding water all over me. My skin instantly flared an angry red.

William rushed into the kitchen, but his first words were directed at Eleanor, not my injury. “Are you okay?” His question seemed to snap her out of her daze, her eyes welling up with tears.

“William, I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to help…”

Probably sensing the blame I might cast, William quickly interjected, “Hazel, Eleanor didn’t do it on purpose. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for being careless!”

He turned to Eleanor, his voice softening as he comforted her. “Don’t worry. She won’t be mad. I know you didn’t mean it. Just ignore her!”

I found his words utterly laughable. Of course, I wouldn’t be mad. Why? Because the woman standing before him wasn’t me; it was my sister, Hannah.

Hannah and I were twins but as different as night and day. I had always been warm and obedient, while Hannah embraced rebellion and coldness. We were like two parallel lines, heading in entirely different directions.

While I followed our parents' wishes, dutifully studying and growing up according to plan, Hannah dropped out of high school and even found herself in jail for fighting, which sent our parents into a rage. They practically disowned her after she got out, giving her ten thousand dollars and cutting ties.

I hadn’t seen Hannah since that day. Years later, after graduating college and starting my career, I married William. Hannah wasn’t at my wedding, and I had never mentioned her to William. So, he had no clue that the woman pretending to be me was my sister.

The next time I saw Hannah was the day I met my tragic end. Lying there, blood-soaked and vulnerable, my attacker had vanished into the night. I was at the entrance of an alley, my phone dead, and just as I was about to call out for help, someone happened to walk by.

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